Please don't hate me
by E.Reeves
Summary: After remembering something horrible he did, England turns to narcotics, but will it stay like that when his hero shows up? -Sucky summary.- America/England One-shot.


**|D My... third APH fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do noooot owwwwnn Hetalia. :**

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_'I hate you!'_

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfocused green eyes stared into themselves in the mirror. Disheveled blonde hair poking in every direction. … The only reason it seemed like a good idea was because he heavily drugged. He couldn't blame himself either. It numbed the pain real good. So good he didn't care if it hurt anyone. Especially America.

He knew America would get over it. The other had hurt him so many times that it seemed like pay back.

But what he failed to realize was all the suffering it was causing his people. Everything was failing.

England managed to tear himself away from the mirror. He was getting disgusted at looking at himself.

The male half stumbled down the stairs, half surprised that he did it without really falling down them.

The kitchen was his next stop. Dear god was he hungry. It felt like he hadn't eaten in _so_ long.

He rummaged through the cabinet and found nothing to his liking, so he moved to the fridge, head ducked low to look on every shelf. Ah, an apple sounded.. good, for the time being. So he'd eat it before he changed his mind.

Grabbing a knife, he leaned onto the counter top, slowly carving into the delicious looking fruit.

But a sudden knock on the door caused him to jerk greatly. A small, almost non-painful sting came from his hand. He immediately dropped the apple, his own form also slipping to the floor.

He sat there, ignoring the persistent knocking on the door and continued looking at his hand. There was a line of blood coming from the heel of his hand. Well, at least the knocking stopped.. Arthur was almost fascinated with the color that was spilling from his hand that he brought the knife back to his wrist; causing another line of blood.

That was when he heard a panicked yell. Eyes slowly moving to the source; tears finally building up from the pain that he was now starting to feel on his hand. But he kept staring at those blue eyes. Those blue eyes that belonged to the one he so rudely yelled at that one time..

"Arthur! What the hell are you doing!?" The words finally registered into Arthur's head as he blinked.

Alfred had moved over quickly, yanking the bloody knife from Arthur's hand and tossing it into the sink. That's where the male's hand was placed seconds later with running water.

"What were you thinking..?" Alfred asked, eyes trained on the arm under the water.

"What am I thinking? I'm thinking that you … you are one of those criminals that break into people's houses.." Arthur leaned more on the counter once more.

Alfred just stared at him like he was crazy. "What? I was just stopping by to check up on you.. I always know that when you yell at me there's something wrong.."

"More people.. are dying. I feel this is going to be the end of me.." The older nation answered immediately.

"...What are you on, Arthur?" Alfred was worried. The other man wasn't usually this.. this pathetic.

Slow eyes moved back up to America's face. ".. I don't know.. the bottle is upstairs.." What he didn't know was Alfred was actually... joking, but that just made the other blonde worry even more.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" America wasn't sure what to do now..

"You left me.. Was it something I did?" Arthur's voice cracked.

"What? No! It wasn't your fault!"

"Then why!? Why did you leave me?" England shouted, pulling his arm away from the sink and to his side; the blood seemed to have stopped dripping by now. His body was turned towards the taller male.

Alfred looked down at him. Brows furrowed. "I.. thought that if I separated myself from you.. I could get even closer." Well.. it was true. Alfred did think that. His hand moved up to brush against Arthur's cheek.

"Everyone.. everyone everyoneeveryoneEVERYONE TURNS A BLIND EYE TO ENGLAND!" He shouted loudly, this caused Alfred to flinch some. "They think England is doing so well in the world today! So they don't even bother! But you know what.. This is what is happening to England!" He lifted his cut arm, practically shoving it in America's face.

"Arthur.. I think you should calm down.." Alfred said, lifting his hands to gently move the other hand down.

"Calm down? NO, I won't! I've never complained about ANYTHING! I think I have a right to!..." He paused for a moment, "Things... things haven't been the same since you've left..." His voice cracked again. Alfred couldn't help but frown at the broken man. He moved forward, wrapping his arms around the male. England didn't fight back at all, instead he burrowed himself into America's chest. Silent sob wracking the shorter male's form.

"Hey, hey. No need for that..." Alfred smiled weakly. "I'm here now, and that's all that matters. Let me be the hero.." He pulled back just a little, moving his hands up to grasp Arthur's face and lift it. He stared at a tear streaked face. But then he was taken aback but what had just happened.

Arthur had moved his own hands up to break Alfred's hands away from his face, then grabbed the taller blonde's hair, twisting his fingers within the hair. He yanked America's head down, smashing their lips together.

Alfred was shocked, but he didn't really pull back either. This was what he wanted..

Once their mouths had opened and Alfred got a taste of Arthur's mouth, he twitched.

Dear God.. he wasn't lying. America could taste the narcotics.

But he couldn't think much more on it when he felt the other's form slump slightly, as if his knees had given out. That's what Alfred had thought before he couldn't get a response from the older nation.

He pulled up, arms gripping Arthur's shoulders.

".. Arthur..? Arthur!" He shook the male some, and to his relief, Arthur cracked his eyes open some.

"...What do you want you bloody idiot?"

Okay, that was reassuring..

Not that much later, Alfred bandaged Arthur's hand, and put him to bed. He had thrown all the stray pills and pill bottle away that were scattered on the bed side table. ...What was England thinking..?

Maybe it _was_ more then he could understand, but now he was here, and he wasn't leaving.

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**I've noticed that each story I do, it gets longer. Haha, maybe one day I'll do multi-chapter Hetalia stories. xD**


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